Twelve Nights of Christmas
by GearSolidSnake
Summary: On each day up until December twenty-four; I will attempt to conduct a heart-warming score; Filled with rhymes, not of yaois, but of Christmas cheer; About simple magic, worthy to bring a tear. I apologize for the severe lack of chapters. Things happened. I'm still getting support for this, so I will post new chapters despite it not being Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

Well, now today is the 13th of December,

And if any of you will ever remember,

That odd day when our story began was Friday,

Now some of you after hearing this date may say,

"Friday the 13th? That day is most unlucky."

However, I am finding it kind of funny.

On the day that many think as superstitious,

I begin my tale, with my own state most vicious.

It's peculiar, with six stories being made,

The others I am writing are seeming to fade.

Now, I embark with my literary merit,

To create twelve rhymes, filled with holiday spirit.

Yes, a poem each day through all of December,

Up until twenty-four, a date which shall render,

Whether GearSolidSnake proves writing most unique,

Or delays and laziness taint his name to reek.

I can try with most confidence, to write on time,

but delays may happen, it's difficult to rhyme.

Now, I let my grandiose introduction close,

And have a story filled with literary prose,

About a gumball machine and his co-workers,

Attempt to tell Christmas spirit, verse by verse.

* * *

Twas twelve days before Christmas, and all through the Park,

Everyone got ready for the Holiday arc.

Christmas into New Years, a magic time of year,

Where goodness and hope destroy wickedness and fear.

Yes, all got ready for the Holiday at hand,

From Thomas to Mordecai, the whole merry band.

In the kitchen, we see Pops, gleeful as ever,

Building great, sugar houses made out from ginger.

While Muscle Man and Fives, in some mischievous fun,

Throw snowballs at a seriously angered nun.

Skips went out to town by himself, but rest assured,

For only he could pick trees without being bored.

Even Mordecai and Rigby, who never care,

Helped to decorate the Park House with their fair share.

But, where is that hooligan? That intern we scorn?

Oh no! Into a wreath, he got stuck his right horn.

Yes, yes, everyone was having a grand old time,

Except one who liked neither Christmas or this rhyme.

Benson was his name, the gumball Park manager,

Whom some say had his emotions in a blender.

"I hate Christmas !" he would always spout up and down.

"It's so greedy and dull, it always makes me frown."

With his temper fouled, all felt pity for his spew.

Who would help him, despite his hate? What would you do...?

* * *

So ends part one of this tale with another rhyme,

Tune in tomorrow, hopefully I am on time.

.

For a little bonus, to put this for your shelve,

The number of syllables in each line is twelve.


	2. Chapter 2

I apologize if the last chapter was short,

I don't want to overwork and have to abort.

* * *

Now back to the issue, of one most unhappy,

What on earth had made his holiday mood crappy?

Could it be his job? His work? The stress of it all?

All sat and wandered as he walked through the hall.

His frown was appalling, his aura had gone stale.

No matter the scene, everyone's spirit ran frail.

Pops said, "Oh, poor Benson, why he seems such a schmuck.

Maybe we should try to help him?"; "Yeah right, good luck,"

Rigby had replied with much negativity.

Mordecai hit his arm for his activity.

"Come on man, Christmas time is supposed to be fun,

We can't have that knowing Benson leaves it to shun."

"Pfft, yeah right, why should we help that grumpy, old fart?

How would you help him? You are not even that smart."

Rigby's harsh words had brought shame to the entire group.

Muscle Man contemplated throwing some hot soup.

Rigby on this holiday was the selfish type,

Getting presents for Christmas was his major tripe.

Why should he help poor Benson, since he does not care,

About the duo at any part of the year?

"Rigby," Pops said sternly against the raccoon's pride,

For he would not allow Rigby to dodge and hide,

"You and Mordecai should put something together.

A present for Benson would make him feel better!"

The blue jay said, "Come on, it can be fun, you'll see,

Let's try to make Benson as happy as can be.

At least then he will not be yelling or shouting,

Let's face it, Christmas is better with no pouting."

Rigby, usually selfish, was now at ends.

Would he now submit and allow his will to bend?

"Ughh, fine, but I cannot promise I'll enjoy it."

Rigby's words were enough to stop Mordecai's hit.

Now the duo set off to the mall on their own,

The task, its real objective not entirely known:

To bring some holiday happiness and spirit,

To one sour soul who surely was in need of it.

As they drove in the cart, their destination known,

All the long drive down, Rigby complained with a moan.

It was so boring, giving instead of getting.

Now their own money was to be put off betting,

If Benson's new Christmas gift would turn things around.

This Mordecai wondered as he drove into town.


	3. Chapter 3

Now with the quest afoot, the duo went onward,

To the mall, where deals were plentiful they had heard.

Alas, going out on Sunday, a cruel day,

For everyone and their mothers was on the way.

Parking was nowhere and they drove for a long while,

Until they found a spot where the mall seemed a mile.

Into the complex, people were packed like sardines;

Seniors, parents and even some radical teens.

They felt utterly lost as they entered the fray.

It will ultimately be a needle in hay:

To find a very good deal that has not been snagged.

Hard work? Ugh! Rigby would rather like to be gagged.

"Come on Rigby," Mordecai said semi-cheery,

"Let's hurry with our gift, and don't be so dreary!"

But what do we get him? What on earth did he like?

Does he like books? A mug? Maybe even a bike?

Well, the first place to start would surely be Flor-Mart.

They had everything, so this first choice must be smart.

However, the idea already went around,

All was picked clean, there was nothing that could be found.

That is, except for people, who cluttered the lanes,

and the frustrated cashier, who started to strain.

_"This wasn't such a good idea after all,"_

He thought as it looked like the customers would brawl.

Mordecai left with Rigby, to find a good store,

All the while they were pushed and shoved. Rigby swore.

Luck was against them. There was nothing worth getting,

Unless Benson liked GELOSs Rigby was eyeing.

Mordecai said that he needed a quick coffee,

His nerves had been shot and he did not feel jolly.

To the nearest food court cafe the duo went,

But the long wait in line seemed hardly worth a cent.

A twelve minute wait left them bored out of their minds,

On top of that, the worker wasn't very kind.

"What do you want?" the teenager said half-annoyed,

With his wallet for some money, Mordecai toyed.

"Yeah, can I have a caramel latte?" he asked,

In seconds the drink was ready, seeming much too fast.

Being polite, the blue jay wished the boy the best.

The cashier didn't smile; "Merry Christmas, now NEXT!"

But the lukewarm latte was made with too much haste.

It tasted like dirt held together by some paste.

Rigby groaned. It was three hours, still empty-handed.

In seas of idiots, our heroes felt stranded.

"HEY EVERYONE!" someone shouted to the whole food court,

"Bullseye is restocked!" Everyone then stormed the fort.

Last chance for a gift: Mordecai picked up his friend.

However, they had to be willing to defend,

Against desperate shoppers as thick as the sea.

What will be the result? Come tomorrow and see.

* * *

Feel free to review, any feedback would be grand.

Let me know what you think of the story at hand.


	4. Chapter 4

The store was now alive with chaos and mischief.

Everyone worried about snagging the best gifts.

There was shouting, screaming, pushing and some shoving;

Our heroes were swallowed by a crowd most crushing.

What was left there with everything already claimed?

A small fight started to form: someone would be maimed.

Yes, yes, this is modern Christmas, new and improved.

If you don't like it, then you must surely be shrewd.

Mordecai; anxious for anything worth taking,

A drum? Board game? A blender for smoothie making?

Suddenly, Mordecai felt from someone a hit.

"Get your hands off that blender!" said one in a fit.

It was a woman, not old, but not young,

Her big, heavy purse at the blue jay she had swung.

He said, "What are you doing, you crazy lady?

We saw this blender first, don't be so greedy!"

But that didn't quell her, nope, it surely did not,

She would not quit until she got the gift she sought.

With her determination set, again she hit,

He gave up, "Alright! Fine! Please stop! Here, just take it!"

Great, Mordecai was all the way back to square one,

Wait-? Where is that Rigby and to where did he run?

It turned out there was a commotion near the toys,

Oh no. It's Rigby! Only he could make such noise.

The raccoon screamed, "Hey, get off me you stupid punk!"

He was in a brawl against an elderly skunk.

Not to my surprise, Rigby was losing big time,

He had a large black eye near the size of a lime.

Security was then called to break up the fight,

And our duo was thrown out against all their might.

"Well great, this sucks! Now what are we going to do?!"

Said the taller blue jay, feeling ready to sue.

Rigby squinted saying, "Maybe its not a loss,"

He pulled out something big, "BAM! Now look who's the boss?!"

A children's coloring book was his big reveal,

Even breaking the law, he made an awful steal!

Mordecai looked stern, not happy of this account.

Rigby replied, "What?! Isn't it the thought that counts...?"


End file.
